


Look After You

by toewsyourheart



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2019-2020 NHL Season, Barebacking, Getting Together, Intimacy, M/M, Massage, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toewsyourheart/pseuds/toewsyourheart
Summary: Jonny skips practice, and Patrick stops by his place on his way home to see what for. Just for that. Nothing else.He swears.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 31
Kudos: 228





	Look After You

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the practice Jonny missed during training camp before the trip to Edmonton. 
> 
> Oh, and apparently the Blackhawks’ massage therapist’s name is Pawel Prylinski. It’s relevant.

Patrick knocks on Jonny’s door, taking a small step back to wait for an answer. He combs his fingers through his hair, still damp from his post-practice shower… Bites at the edge of his thumbnail… Pulls it away from his mouth after remembering he’s not supposed to be doing that… Knocks again, a little harder in case Jonny didn’t hear the first time, then shoves his hand deep in his pocket. 

In the other, Patrick’s holding a chunky green smoothie he picked up from the juice shop Jonny likes a lot. He bought himself an overpriced bottle of water, as if Jonny wouldn’t have any at his place. It’s nothing really unusual, Patrick being here, but he’s caught in a weird undercurrent of nerves just showing up, even if he’s done it a hundred times over the years as Jonny’s bounced all around the city. 

The energy is different since they’ve been back from the pause in the season, since the break-up Jonny won’t really mention and doesn’t care to talk about when anyone else does. They’ve accidentally hooked up once or twice, then done it on purpose a couple more… Patrick hasn’t nailed down too many concrete thoughts about it other than he wants it to keep happening, that maybe he’s wanted it to be happening all along. He likes how it feels when Jonny looks at him as more, touches him as more. He’s learning to recognize more in every little encounter, where it’s probably always been hiding, and Jonny lets Patrick do things to him he thought he’d only ever dream about… 

So it’s not bad energy. 

Just different. 

Patrick’s not standing in front of his house with a to-go cup made from recycled materials for a hookup though. Not that he would turn one down if the opportunity presented itself. He’s here because Jonny didn’t mention skipping today, and if he came for any workouts or treatment, Patrick didn’t catch him. 

He doesn’t particularly care for that, the hollow disappointment of not seeing him when he’s anticipated seeing him, having to wonder what’s going on with him… Jonny’s business feels a lot like his business most of the time, especially where it concerns the Hawks, and he’d say that even if they hadn’t fucked. He tells himself his reason for being there is mostly rooted in concern for the team so close to leaving for Edmonton. They’re not good unless Jonny’s good, and sometimes what the coaches hear and the truth don’t match. He’s just checking up on him. That’s all. The thought reassures his purpose as he waits, like the truth of it alone gives him the right to drop by and ask questions whenever he wants. 

It’s not like that invitation doesn’t swing both ways. 

Finally, Patrick hears him throw the deadbolt, then the door swings open, and Jonny’s there, upright and in one piece. There are pillow creases across his cheek, his hair flat on one side and sticking up in all directions on the other. He’s wearing black, tight boxer briefs—the only kind of underwear he seems to own—and nothing else. Patrick wouldn’t answer the door like that if somebody paid him, but he’s got nothing but gratitude that Jonny should be so bold, a familiar heat simmering on low beneath his skin when he lets himself really take it in. 

At first, Jonny’s brow is furrowed with an annoyance that Patrick’s no stranger to. He learned early on in their career that Jonny hates having his sleep fucked with to an irrational level. Then he visibly softens, the corner of his mouth curving upward in a charming, sleepy smile when he registers Patrick and what he’s got in his hand. 

Patrick suddenly feels lighter, infinitely more settled in being there because he can tell that Jonny wants it too, even if his default setting after waking up is grouchy as fuck. 

“Sorry, I was asleep,” Jonny apologizes, as if that wasn’t obvious. 

“No way? I couldn’t tell,” Patrick jokes, then, “Wait—” He covers his mouth and nose in the bend of his elbow and asks, muffled, “You didn’t pop a positive, did you?” 

He’s mostly kidding. Jonny’s been with them every day until today, so if he’s got it, they’re already fucked. Patrick, especially. He assumes the team would’ve been informed immediately and re-tested roughly a million times, but now that he’s said it out loud into the universe, he’d like to hear a solid “no” here. 

Jonny’s half-smile breaks into a huffed laugh. “No, I didn’t—” He nudges him in that playful way that makes Patrick’s stomach do flips, then steps out of the doorway for Patrick to come inside, which he does, kicking off his shoes beside the mat because that’s where Jonny’s are. He sounds annoyed again when he continues, grumbling, “And thank god for that. I’m so fucking sick of those tests already.” 

“They suck, for sure,” Patrick agrees. It’s like somebody’s poking a Q-tip around his brain. Shit makes his eyes water worse than watching sad movies. “I always sneeze like ten times when they take it out.”

They were told if anybody gets a positive result, the number of tests that person has to take triples until it’s over or something, and nobody wants any of that action. But Patrick didn’t come to talk about COVID tests either, especially now that he knows for sure Jonny’s in the clear. 

Casually as he can muster, which is pretty fucking casual, but still pointed enough, “What’s up though?” 

“Nothing, just woke up from a nap, like I said,” Jonny shrugs, rubbing at his eyes and talking through a yawn as they walk into the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly what Patrick was asking, but he can work with it. “What’s up with you? You bring that for me?” 

“Maybe I did,” Patrick answers. He’s not sure why they stopped here, but he perches on the edge of a barstool at the island, Jonny across the corner from him. With baiting curiosity, he asks, “What’s your favorite again?” 

“The mango and kale one,” Jonny says. “With blueberries.” 

And flaxseed, he’s pretty sure. Patrick hmmms, fighting a smile, feeling himself a little bit for remembering. He gestures with the cup, “Just happens to be what this is.” 

Jonny chuckles, says with an amused dryness that Patrick finds unreasonably attractive, “What are the odds.” 

Patrick pushes the smoothie across the counter, and Jonny takes it, nodding his thanks. He looks so soft and open, his bare chest so smooth… 

“Where were you today?” Patrick finally asks outright. 

“You keeping tabs on me, Kaner?” Jonny returns with a self-satisfied grin, taking a sip of the smoothie after he pokes the biodegradable straw through the lid. 

“No,” Patrick denies. “Trying to, maybe.”

“Jeremy would’ve told you if you asked him,” Jonny notes, and it’s true, he would’ve. 

Patrick says, “I’d rather ask you.” 

Jonny holds his eyes for a brief, curious moment, and Patrick catches himself wishing he could reach out and touch him without feeling weird about it. Physical displays of affection aren’t really his thing, but Jonny has him aching for them in a way that makes him feel like a stranger inside his own skin. Maybe it’s quarantine, social distancing stuff that’s got him itching for something he rarely thinks he needs… 

Either way, Patrick wants to trail his finger along Jonny’s forearm or stroke the back of his hand where he holds his cup, just as casually as Jonny’s leaning against his white marble countertop. But it’s like there’s an invisible wall between them that has to come down first, a switch that needs to be flipped to turn their normal interactions into the kind where they do things like that. Once that line is crossed, they barrel forward full speed ahead, but it’s always a game to see who will make the first move. 

“I’m good. Just taking a day, trying to ease back in,” Jonny says. “Fuckin’ back’s kinda tight, but nothing new there.” 

“Tight, huh?” Patrick runs through the last couple days in his mind, trying to remember if he saw Jonny favoring it at all. Nothing sticks out. “You let Gaps work on it?” 

“A little bit yesterday,” Jonny answers. “Probably sore from that more than anything.” 

“Want me to?” Patrick offers with a smirk. “I’ll stretch you out good.” 

It’s not an accident how it sounded, all the ways he might mean it, if Jonny wants it. 

Jonny snorts a laugh, says, “Yeah, I bet.” 

It’s not a no. 

Patrick watches the way his cheeks flush the faintest pink as Jonny pushes away from the bar, bringing his smoothie with him. He suggests, “Living room?” 

“Sure,” Patrick nods, savoring every second of Jonny walking away in his briefs before getting up to follow after him. 

It’s immediately obvious that Jonny had been asleep on the couch when he showed up, a fluffy blanket thrown back messily and a pillow laid flat with a head-shaped impression. 

“You were just right here, and it took you that long to get to the door?” Patrick asks. “Sheesh.” 

“Deep sleeper once I get there,” Jonny says, then quieter, “You know that.” 

Patrick does, and he says as much. He knows it personally—just like most of Jonny’s other little habits and quirks—more so lately. He would never admit it out loud, but he’s taken advantage of that fact to watch Jonny sleep without the gap between hotel beds separating them like the old days, to touch his face at its most peaceful. 

He sits down a respectful distance from Jonny on the couch, far enough away they can both widen out without touching. There’s a good kind of tension in the silence, one Patrick’s grown used to without knowing it, wanting him. It’s only amplified now that they’ve started acting on it sometimes, every inch between them pronounced.

Jonny switches the channel to ESPN, and Patrick listens for a minute, taking long sips of his water. 

He finally says, “Scrimmage was pretty good today.”

“Was it?” Jonny replies. “Your team must’ve won again.” 

“Obviously,” Patrick says, grinning. “My biggest competition was taking a nap.” 

“I wasn’t asleep  _ that _ long,” Jonny objects. “You demolished my very first REM cycle.” 

“Oh no, not your precious afternoon REM cycle,” Patrick deadpans, rolling his eyes. If Jonny had been serious about the nap, he would’ve gone to his bed. That mistake is not Patrick’s fault. After a second, he goes on, “But I think it’s coming together okay. Still got some things to work on, clearly, but—” He shrugs. It’s nothing Jonny doesn’t know, nothing he doesn’t agonize over every day just like Patrick, but there’s room for a little optimism. Anything can happen once you’re in. “Sikura looked really nice.” 

“Kid’s due for some bounces,” Jonny says. “Good for him.” 

There’s a quiet sense of pride in his voice, and Patrick knows it comes from a genuine place of wanting the best for his teammates and wanting to be part of their journey there, especially the young guys.

“Definitely,” Patrick agrees, then he admits, trying to keep it lighthearted with a playful tap to Jonny’s thigh. “Missed ya out there though.”

It’s effortless to get caught up in the convoluted way he feels about him if he drops his guard for one second, his admiration for everything pertaining to Jonny’s hockey and leadership colliding with his admiration for Jonny’s… everything else. 

“I’ll have to get loosened up and get back out there then,” Jonny says, “Can’t have you missing me.” 

It sounds sarcastic, but Patrick knows there’s some element of truth in it and hopefully the “yes” he was looking for a minute ago. 

Patrick presses, “So you  _ do _ want me to take a look at it?” 

“Something like that,” Jonny answers, letting his head lull back against the couch in a way that’s inexplicably sexy, his eyes dark and heavy on him. “Come see.” 

It’s the move in verbal form, and Patrick doesn’t need to hear it twice, but he hesitates for a second to let the anticipation spike even higher. Slowly leaning toward him, Patrick puts his hand on Jonny’s knee, skimming it up, up along his soft inner thigh. His shoulder is the first place Patrick’s mouth can reach so that’s where he puts it, pressing a kiss to warm skin. It hits like a flood of relief washing over him. Breathing Jonny in and mumbling, “Feel like I’ve thought about doing this again every minute since last time.” 

“Yeah?” Jonny breathes out. “You’re not alone there.” 

His fingers thread into Patrick’s curls, guiding him closer to his neck where Patrick’s learning he likes to be kissed. He sucks gently at the tanned skin near the base of Jonny’s throat, not hard enough to leave a mark, as bad as he might want to, then he drags his lips to the edge of Jonny’s jawline. 

He’s already picturing Jonny laid on the mattress, head pillowed on his arms when he flips to his stomach. He’ll massage him first, do what he said he’d do before he does what he wants. He’ll take his time, get him relaxed then open him up… 

“Let’s go to your room,” Patrick suggests in a rough whisper, stupidly turned on by his own imagination and the novelty of being with Jonny like this. It still hasn’t faded, and he’s not sure if it ever will. He brings his hand further between Jonny’s legs to feel the impression of his dick inside his briefs, growing harder with every brush of Patrick’s fingers. 

“Kiss me first,” Jonny says. 

Patrick smiles to himself. In the short time they’ve been doing this, he’s quickly figured out that Jonny’s got a thing for his mouth. It sends a chill over him, the idea of Jonny trying to conjure a memory of kissing him to last him until the next moment he actually could. Still, it wouldn’t be right if he didn’t mess with him a little. 

“I  _ am _ kissing you,” he teases, pressing his lips along Jonny’s jaw, then to the apple of his cheek. Jonny turns quickly to catch his mouth, as if Patrick would’ve denied him anything for long. 

And then they really kiss… It starts slow, a series of small kisses before melting into one that never seems to end, an enthralling push and pull. There are few feelings in the world that rival this: Jonny’s tongue against his, his fingers in Jonny’s hair, grown out long enough for him to get a good grip on. One of the only things better is what he hopes they’re about to do next. 

It doesn’t help the moving-to-the-bedroom process that Jonny’s practically naked already. It’s a constant temptation to slip his hand under the waistband of Jonny’s briefs to start working them off, but he knows if he does, they’ll never make it anywhere. He plays with it though, fingertips skimming beneath then out again as he contemplates what it would be like to fuck him fully clothed like this. 

Pulling back just far enough to speak, Jonny asks, “What’re you waiting for? You need me to say it?” He murmurs, “Touch me,” and Patrick’s hit with a wave of heat that makes him dizzy. 

“I want to,” Patrick says, somehow finding the presence of mind to add, “But we were going to your room, I thought?” 

Jonny has the audacity to grumble about it, even though he’s the one who held them up in the first place. Not that Patrick didn’t thoroughly appreciate the make out. 

He says, “C’mon then,” and Patrick stands with him, hooking his fingers in Jonny’s waistband again and tugging him into another kiss. He slides his hands around, gives Jonny’s ass a firm squeeze, then smacks it a little when he turns to go. Jonny pays him back by stopping a few feet away to ditch his briefs right there, then moving on like nothing changed.

“Fuck, Jonny,” Patrick groans, staring open-mouthed at the perfection that is Jonny’s naked body in motion. It’s out there in the locker room all the time, but the context brings new, visceral meaning to it. They aren’t Kane and Toews of the Chicago Blackhawks in here. He can look as much as he wants, put his hands on him freely once they get there. It’s different.

Jonny stops, glances over his shoulder with a smirk, “Well? You coming? It was your idea.” 

Jonny will be thanking him for it soon enough. If his back’s already tight, last thing he needs is to be all cramped fucking over the back of the couch, and when they’re done upstairs, they can finish that nap Jonny was taking. It’s called thinking ahead. 

It’s a nice thought too, how an afternoon can evolve into an evening. Maybe they’ll get takeout for dinner. Maybe Patrick won’t go home at all… 

Without another word, he follows Jonny up the stairs and down the hall to his room, and once behind closed doors, their mouths quickly find each other again. 

“Take your clothes off,” Jonny says, letting Patrick lead them toward the bed. “Not fair I’ve been basically naked this whole time.” 

“It’s not my fault you just exist like this,” Patrick says, reaching behind his head to pull his shirt over it. “Should I just start stripping the second I walk in the door from now on?” 

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Jonny tells him. He can practically feel Jonny’s eyes moving over his shoulders and chest, then downward as Patrick shoves his shorts to the floor. 

Jonny likes tight underwear, Patrick prefers the _entire _opposite, and Jonny inhales sharply, shakily in surprise, like he didn’t know that already, like he wasn’t expecting to see Patrick fully hard so immediately.__

____

____

“I can’t believe you do that,” Jonny remarks, but he sounds mostly in awe instead of judging. “I don’t even do that.” 

“Depends what I’m wearing,” Patrick explains, murmuring between kisses, “Where I’m going, who I’m going to see...” 

“That right?” Jonny asks, “You had some ideas about coming over here, huh?” 

“I’ve always got ideas about you, Jonny,” Patrick breathes out, sucking at his bottom lip before nudging him backwards. “Go lay down. Lemme rub your back.” 

It almost hurts him to say it, vulnerability piercing his chest and making him a little self-conscious at offering, and Jonny seems to feel it too.

He lowers his eyes, smiling. “You don’t have to do that, Peeks.”

Patrick says, “I want to.” 

“You gonna fix me up?” Jonny asks, pulling Patrick into him again until Patrick’s dick rubs against his thigh.

Patrick groans, resting their foreheads together as he rolls his hips a little. “You know it.” 

Jonny turns, taking that delicious friction with him, and lays on his side to face Patrick from the middle of the mattress. Patrick’s eyes make another thorough trip over his body. Jonny’s still hard, but he doesn’t reach to touch himself, focused on what Patrick’s doing. His earlier impatience seems to have settled into contentment with taking things slow. 

It’s a change of pace from the other handful of times they’ve been together. Those were a little more rushed, desperate like the opportunity might’ve slipped away from them if they didn’t take advantage as quickly as possible once their mouths met. This time it all feels really intentional in a way that’s hard for Patrick to think about straight on, like there’s nowhere to hide from what this might be. 

“Got some lotion in the nightstand. Top drawer,” Jonny notes. “Lube too, you know, for whatever,” he adds, as if Patrick isn’t familiar with where he keeps it at this point, like what they’re about to do is still up in the air. 

“For whatever, huh?” Patrick huffs a laugh, rummaging through Jonny’s bedside drawer for the stuff. His eyes glance over a strip of condoms. “What about a, uh?”

They’ve used them, but Patrick’s interested to see where they’re at in getting rid of them. He wants to feel Jonny bare so bad, and it’s not like they haven’t been tested recently as part of their return-to-play physical. He’s certainly not hooking up with anyone else right now. It’s a goddamn pandemic. 

“Leave it,” Jonny says, with him despite his fractured question, “Unless you…” he trials off. 

“Yeah, no, I—” Patrick stammers a little, clearing his throat. “It’s like, really fucking good no matter what, obviously, but I do wanna… feel you. Like that, for sure.” 

Bare, skin-on-skin with nothing between them. 

He doesn’t say that part. Despite everything else that fumbled out of his mouth, it feels like too much at once when he’s already said enough, but the thought alone makes his dick throb. He feels a twinge of regret at committing himself to the back rub first, but he knows it’ll only make it that much more satisfying once he gets inside him. 

“Then get over here,” Jonny insists, looking so close to the image Patrick had in his head, only better. So much better. He’s rolled to his stomach, watching with heavy-lidded eyes. Patrick admires his shoulders, the slope of his lower back, the curve of his ass by the dim light of the lamp. 

He crawls toward Jonny on the mattress, setting aside the bottle of lotion and lube to lean down and kiss the back of his neck and shoulders. In a whisper, he says, “Tell me where.” 

“Mmmm,” Jonny hums, a low rumble in his chest, “Everywhere, I think.” 

Patrick blows out an amused breath, “ _Oh _okay.”__

____

____

“Lemme see what those hands can do without a stick in ‘em,” Jonny says. 

“I got you,” Patrick replies. It brings that element of a challenge that neither of them can resist, and now Patrick’s even more determined to make it good. He’s not a fucking masseuse by any means, but he’s learned how muscles work, the direction they run and where they connect and pull. He knows where to push to release the tension, because he’s been pushed every place imaginable himself. 

So Patrick dispenses a small amount of lotion into his palms and gets to it, straddling Jonny’s waist to improve the angle for doing both sides equally. He starts at Jonny’s shoulders, rubbing and kneading methodically down his upper back, slow and easy. Jonny makes noises that Patrick won’t ever be able to forget, breathy moans and hisses when Patrick hits a good spot and works it out. 

After a minute, he feels Jonny chuckling a little beneath him. “God, this is a lot different than Pawel.” 

“Well, I fucking hope so,” Patrick says, huffing a breath and starting to laugh too despite how offended he’s trying not to be. “How you just gonna mention Pawls and ruin the moment?” 

Jonny frees one of his arms to reach back for him, where his knees are at either side of Jonny. He rubs at Patrick’s thigh as best he can, squeezing. “Not ruined for me. Feels good, Pat. Really fucking good.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Patrick mutters, bending to kiss Jonny’s neck again before climbing off him and between his thighs to get better leverage on his mid-back. 

Patrick spends a couple minutes there before Jonny says, “Lower.” 

He goes lower. 

As he digs his thumbs into the tender places at the small of Jonny’s back, Jonny starts to shift beneath him, squirming almost. At first, Patrick eases off with the pressure, worried he’s hurting him, but Jonny groans, “Nuh uh. Harder,” and Patrick nearly chokes, gives him what he wants as the movement of Jonny’s hips grows more deliberate. Rubbing his dick into the mattress under Patrick’s hands, he repeats, a whine, “ _Lower _, Patrick.”__

____

____

There’s nowhere else to go except— 

Patrick palms Jonny’s ass, squeezing and gently spreading both cheeks to expose his hole. He fits his dick along the crease, and it’s so easy to move in a slow-motion suggestion of a thrust… 

He asks, “This what you want?” 

Jonny bends his knee, opening up his thighs to give Patrick more room. “Mmm, yeah.” 

If he could push inside Jonny right now, he would, but he can’t. Instead, he pulls back, grazes his thumb over puckered skin to watch the subtle way Jonny clenches. Patrick can’t remember the last time he was hard for so long without doing anything substantial about it, but he’s in for the long game now, and he’s going to savor it. Who knows when he’ll get it again. 

“I wanna—” Patrick licks his lips. “Lemme start with my mouth.”

“As long as you start,” Jonny urges, and Patrick answers with a playful bite to the smooth, plump skin of his ass, relishing in Jonny’s muted gasp. 

He spreads Jonny open again, hovering over him to let spit drip from his mouth, then watches as it runs down to the back of Jonny’s balls. He flattens his tongue, starting where the trail disappeared to lick up and over his rim and back again before focusing there in little strokes that vary enough to make it a surprise how the next one might feel. Jonny’s moans get louder the longer Patrick works to open him up. The more pointed Patrick’s licks become, the harder Jonny pushes against him. 

“Really taking your time back there, huh?” Jonny murmurs.

“Like you don’t like it,” Patrick answers, shoving his tongue in deep and earning a satisfying shudder from Jonny before he pulls back and grabs for the lube. Quickly coating two fingers, he replaces them inside Jonny, teasing at his rim before advancing them further. 

“Coulda done three,” Jonny tells him, and Patrick grumbles. 

“How ‘bout you just let me do it?” 

“Tou-chy,” Jonny chuckles, the shakiness of it giving away how affected he really is. 

Patrick smiles, muttering to himself, “We’ll see who’s touchy.” 

He goes straight for Jonny’s prostate, massaging with the kind of sustained precision he won’t be able to manage once he gets his dick in there, satisfied by the way Jonny’s fingers twist in the sheets. 

“Fuuck,” Jonny curses. “ _Patrick _—”__

____

____

“Yeah?” Patrick breathes out, watching Jonny’s rim stretch as he pushes in the third finger Jonny wanted. “That feel good, Jon? You look good. Gonna look even better when it’s my—” 

“I want it to be,” Jonny cuts him off, “C’mon.” 

Patrick’s more persistent with his fingers now—in and out, in and out, widening them a little. He’ll still have to go in slow as fuck, but he could go in… 

He grabs the bottle of lube again, squirting some on his dick and making a couple quick passes with his hand to spread the wealth, wiping the rest over Jonny’s hole. He taps Jonny’s hip to get his attention. “Up on your knees a little.” 

Jonny gets his knees under him, arching his back and propping on his elbows, and Patrick has to collect himself before fitting his dick at Jonny’s entrance. He drags the head over his hole, rubbing and pressing forward with a steady, testing pressure, but not enough to force inside right away. 

“Relax, baby,” Patrick says, voice low and raw, coaxing, “Lemme in.” 

Jonny exhales a long, audible breath, dropping his forehead to the mattress, and Patrick eases inside in slow, mind-blowing increments, watching mesmerized as Jonny’s body adjusts to take him. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Patrick says, strained, plastering himself along Jonny’s back as he slides in flush then settles to let Jonny say when he can move. In a haze of wanting him, Patrick peppers Jonny’s shoulders with kisses, pleased when Jonny turns his head to capture his mouth. 

“Fuck me, Patrick,” Jonny murmurs, and Patrick starts to move just like that, breathing hot into his mouth. It’s so much to be inside him, moving in short, hard thrusts that nudge so fucking deep. It’s not long before Patrick can’t stand to keep that pace, and he rights himself, running his palm up and down Jonny’s back as he fucks him in earnest, with long, smooth strokes that have Jonny crying out when he hits the right spot. 

“Gotta skip practice more often,” Jonny starts, amused and breathing ragged, “If this is what it gets me nowadays.” 

“You can get this when _ever _,” Patrick blurts out, words falling from his mouth in painful honesty.__

____

____

Jonny pulls away from him to turn over on his back, and no sooner than Patrick fills him up again and finds his mouth, Jonny flips them over in a strong move that leaves Patrick looking up at him in awe. Jonny kisses him hard and filthy, then he sits up, straddling him with thick thighs spread wide. Patrick slides his hands over them, digging his fingertips into hard, powerful muscle. 

“Goddamn, you feel so good on me,” Patrick says as Jonny starts to move, up and down, slow and controlled. He’s flushed from his chest to his neck and cheeks, a gorgeous sheen of sweat on his brow, longer hair tousled across his forehead. He tips his head back, closing his eyes and biting his lip, and Patrick thinks he might come at the sight of Jonny losing himself alone. 

“You’re fucking hot,” Patrick tells him, an understatement, “So perfect.” 

Patrick’s getting close, and he prays Jonny is too. He takes Jonny’s dick in his hand, rock hard and leaking at the tip, and creates a tight tunnel for Jonny to fuck into as he rides him.

“Yeahhh, Patrick,” Jonny groans, appreciative, circling his hips fully seated on him before resuming with an up and down motion that grows more erratic with each bounce. “That’s it. I’m—”

He places his hand over Patrick’s on his dick, holding tighter, stroking faster, and Patrick moans when Jonny clenches hard around him and starts to come thick and hot between them, shooting across his stomach. 

“Fuck yeah. C’mere, Jonny,” Patrick says, nearly bursting, “Kiss me.” 

Jonny all but falls forward, catching himself with his hands before dropping further to his elbows. Patrick bends his knees up for leverage to fuck into him hard from beneath as Jonny keeps rocking on his dick. They kiss sloppily as Patrick follows Jonny and comes inside him, gasping into his mouth. Patrick lets out a string of curses and compliments and garbled things he can’t even pick out from his own brain. 

He’s in a state of half-conscious euphoria as he drifts down from his orgasm… Feels his over-sensitive dick sliding out when Jonny lifts off him… Reaches vaguely in the direction he thinks Jonny goes when he disappears. Patrick grumbles in protest of his absence, but before he can find the ability to say it with some conviction, Jonny comes back with a towel to wipe him off. The sweetness of the gesture is like a smack to the face, waking him up a bit and bringing him back to the moment. 

Then Jonny’s in his arms like he never left, laid half across his chest, leg thrown over Patrick’s. 

“That was…” Patrick trails off. There are too many words swirling around his head, and all of them are embarrassing in one way or another, so he doesn’t say anything else. 

“If you mean amazing,” Jonny mumbles, pressing a tender kiss to the middle of his chest, “Then yeah, it was.” 

He loves the way Jonny is after sex, all gentle and unguarded, a little clingy. It makes Patrick feel okay to be that way too. He says, “That’s exactly what I meant,” taking a second after to marinate in the rush of feelings he’s having, tightening his hold around him. 

It’s undeniable how perfectly they fit together. Patrick knew it would be that way before he knew it would ever happen… At some point, they’ll have to explicitly talk about what the hell it is they’re doing. Patrick’s deepest fear is what logic tells him it is, but his heart argues against with everything it has: A rebound and nothing more. He might not survive that at this point, as stupid as he feels thinking it after a few fucks. Either way, he’s not sure if the idea of it being everything he wants it to be scares him more or less. 

For now and the immediate future, Patrick doesn’t know much, but he knows he wants to have this as much as he can until it’s gone. He’s feeling just blissed out enough to see about it, Jonny’s weight on top of him comfortably grounding.

Leading in the only way he can think of on the spot, Patrick asks, “You getting excited about the bubble?” 

“Mm,” Jonny grunts sleepily, nuzzling into him. “I guess. I’m excited for hockey, and if that means the bubble, then—” He shrugs, sighing contentedly in Patrick’s arms despite the interruption in what he probably thought was him getting back to his nap. “So be it.” 

“You think we could, uh—” Patrick clears his throat, making his voice lighter than the heavy vulnerability he feels. “Do this in there sometimes?” 

“Geez, Peeks,” Jonny says, scoffing a little, “I don’t know if I’ll be riding you quite like that after sixty minutes of playoff hockey, but—”

“No, no, I didn’t—I mean, of course I wanna fool around with you, but I didn’t mean that…”

Patrick’s heart pounds in his chest, and he wonders if Jonny can feel it where his cheek rests against it. 

“This,” Patrick starts, brushing that strand of hair off Jonny’s forehead, tracing his brow bone. He takes a deep breath and presses a kiss there, Jonny’s skin hot, sticky from the sheen of sex sweat. Hugging him tight and mumbling, “I meant _this _, Jonny.”__

____

____

Jonny lifts his head to look at him, and his eyes are dark, rich with sincerity as he leans forward to kiss his mouth. Patrick’s not sure if he imagines the tremble in Jonny’s lips against his or if he’s just overwhelmed himself. 

Jonny asks, an echo of earlier, “This what you want?” 

“Yeah,” Patrick whispers, “Anything, to be honest with you.” 

Jonny whispers back, “Anytime,” and kisses him again. 

+

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at [seabsneckbeard](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/seabsneckbeard) on tumblr and also....[seabsneckbeard ](https://twitter.com/seabsneckbeard) on twitter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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